Return to Second Eden
by Outlaw's Daughter
Summary: The kids of our heroes follow in their parents' footsteps as they answer a plea for help from the prophet Enoch and travel to Second Eden. However they soon realize they might have bitten off more than they can chew.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I don't know how many people will actually find this, placed as it is in the Misc. section, but for all those who do: Welcome and enjoy!

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**C**harlie Bannister sat alone in the empty classroom, thoughtfully chewing a sandwich. His sister and the others had wanted him to sit with them, as usual, but he didn't feel like being gawked at in the cafeteria today. He'd lived in Castlewood all his life; you'd think people would've just gotten over it by now.

This line of thought did not put him in a good mood.

"Hi."

Charlie looked up. A bespectacled girl stood before him, her head cocked to one side. Brown hair spilled from a messy braid. She seemed to be about his age. When her intense gaze remained trained on him, he realized he hadn't said anything.

With a quick, almost guilty look over his shoulder, he nodded slightly and mumbled a greeting. He felt rather than saw her eyes shift when his did. A red flush, from anger as much as embarrassment, crawled up his neck. His jaw clenched.

"Right, anyways," The girl met his eyes again, "I was just passing by, I saw you, and I was thinking that you're-"

"A dragon kid?" he growled, his chin jutting forward. He folded his arms across his chest. "How long it'd take you to figure that one out?"

Her eyes widened, and she actually took a step back. Then her eyebrows lowered in a glare and she retorted, "I was about to say that I think you're in my history class. I forgot to write down the homework and I thought you could tell me!"

Now Charlie's entire face was red. "Oh." He scraped a hand across his face. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Uh, we have to take notes on chapter six and, uh, prepare for the debate on Friday."

The girl's voice softened. "Thank you." She turned to leave.

He lifted a hand. "You're…welcome." The minute the girl stepped into the hallway, he dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

Faintly, he heard the bell ring, but he didn't move, even though his subconscious was screaming that his next class was all the way across the school. Why did he have to be such an idiot sometimes?

Having no answer to _that_ question, he finally scooped up his backpack and hurried to fifth period, hoping he could sneak in without Mrs. Meyer noticing. A difficult thing to do for a guy with dragon wings.

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"**Y**ou are dead."

Charlie looked down the length of his sword at the boy, breathing heavily. The boy stared defiantly back, his sword still frozen in the defensive position despite the blade hovering next his neck. For a moment, silence reigned. Then, simultaneously, their glares faded and laughter whooshed out of them.

Charlie lowered his sword and closed the distance between them. He gave the boy a brotherly slap on the back, which earned him one in return.

Fourteen year old Benjamin Bannister looked like a carbon copy of their grandfather Jared as he shouldered his sword, or at least a copy of what Jared would have looked like had he actually been a human teenager.

Charlie carefully tossed his blade to Ben, who took both swords inside to be cleaned. Charlie tipped his face to the fading evening sun, letting the crisp autumn breeze dry the beads of sweat on his forehead. He stretched his wings as wide as he could, easing out the cramps from holding them tight to his body while he fought.

Closing his eyes, he mentally reviewed the match. He hadn't sparred in months, and it showed. Though he'd technically beaten his brother, his moves had been stiff and jerky. The match had consisted mainly of Charlie desperately parrying Ben's bruising blows. For a fourteen year old, Ben was extremely strong. A whole head shorter than Charlie, Ben was nonetheless sturdy, just like their grandfather. And if Karen had been sparring, he thought with a grin, she would have pummeled the both of them.

Charlie had only managed to win by feinting and then ducking around Ben's parry, bringing his sword around in a quick chop that stopped a few inches from his brother's neck.

Plus, Charlie was the one panting like their dog Clefspeare on a hot day. Ben had walked off with a spring in his step.

As Charlie walked the short distance across the yard to the house, he wondered what the neighbors must think. Swordsmanship was not exactly a normal American pastime. But, then again, Charlie's family was decidedly not normal.

He slipped into the house, shuffling his feet across the mat, and paused as he passed the kitchen. He grinned. His mother stood inside by the stove. With a book in one hand and a spoon in the other, she stirred a pot of marinara sauce absently while her eyes traveled along the inky lines of the page. Knowing his mother, the thick volume was probably not a cookbook. The kitchen was not her preferred domain.

Quietly, he crept up behind her. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her shoulder, speaking as he did so, "Hey, Mom, reading on the job again?"

His mother jumped, drops of red sauce spattering the stove. She spun around, and Charlie jumped back to avoid being whacked in the face by her wings. When she saw it was him, she rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly. "Charlie, go do your homework."

"All right, all right." He started toward the stairs, but not before snatching up a couple pieces of chicken from a plate on the opposite counter. He popped one into his mouth. His chewing slowed, savoring the meat. He shoved another piece into his mouth; it was _good_. He instantly felt bad about his shock. His mother's meals were always…edible.

"Hey Mom, this chicken tastes…different."

His mother actually looked sheepish. "Karen was just down here helping me."

He ducked his head, unable to stop the huge grin that spread across his face. Of course. His twin never could resist a challenge, from running a marathon to cooking dinner.

She must have seen it though, because she rolled her eyes and pointed to the door, "Homework, now." But she had a smile on her face.

As he left, she waggled one of her wings at him in a wave. Charlie shook his head. Definitely not normal. But there was good reason for it. Charlie's mother was the daughter of a dragon. So was his father, for that matter. Charlie smirked. Well, his father was the _son_ of a dragon.

The entire thing was extremely confusing; even Charlie got lost, and he'd heard the story since he was a baby.

Both his father's father and his mother's mother had once been dragons. Real dragons complete with the wings, scales, tails, and of course, the fiery breath. During the time of King Arthur, dragons were hunted almost to extinction, and so God gave all surviving dragons a human body to escape from the dragon slayers.

All these dragons went into hiding, blending in with the humans throughout the centuries. Both his grandfather Jared and his grandmother Irene married humans and had children, but since they both were dragons in the guise of humans, their offspring, Charlie's parents, were dragons as well. These offspring were fully dragon _and_ fully human; anthrozils, as Grandpa Conner had dubbed them.

Charlie's parents looked like normal humans, for the most part. They retained some traits from their dragon blood, thus his father had the ability to breathe fire, and his mother had wings. And the two of them had passed along their dragon blood to _their_ children: Charlie and his siblings.

The carpeted stairs creaked gently under his feet. When he reached the top, he tiptoed past the first door on the left; his father was working on a new painting. He continued to his room, flopping down on his bed. The books and notebooks he had earlier tossed there bounced in time with his body.

Charlie took one glance at the numbers, exponents, derivatives, and roots on the first worksheet and grimaced. Calculus. When his cousins came as they inevitably would, he'd have to ask for help. Hannah may have been a year younger, but she was already smarter than he'd ever be, a trait she'd inherited from her mother.

Charlie flipped to the next page. English. He set that page aside as well. Unlike his mother, he had no talent with words.

_Chapter Six: The Protestant Reformation_. That was more like it. Charlie eagerly pulled his notebook and pencil towards him and was soon lost in the world of sixteenth century Europe.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you RobinxHoodxFan09 for your review! Enjoy!

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**C**harlie stared at the brown-haired girl sitting three seats over in the front row. It was the same girl he'd snarled at yesterday. And it was so strange. Before yesterday, he didn't even know she was in his class; now he couldn't ignore her. History was usually the one class he threw himself into, and he hadn't listened to a single word of Mr. MacIntyre's lecture. His regret gnawed at him, made it impossible to focus.

He drummed his pen against an empty sheet of paper. His foot beat a rhythm on the floor. The girl in front of him stopped writing her own notes. Still watching the other girl, he sucked in a large breath, and then let it whoosh out. The girl in front of him peered over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

He stopped tapping the pen. She turned back around.

He poked the girl with his pen. She twitched, but otherwise didn't respond. He poked her again, a little harder. No response at all.

"Em!" He whispered, "Emily!"

Charlie was just opening his mouth to whisper again when the girl spun around in her seat, her blonde-streaked hair whipping him across the face.

"What?" She hissed quietly, her British tones sharp. Ouch. Charlie figured he was in trouble when the nicest person he knew was annoyed.

Still, he persisted. "Do you know that girl? The one up there?" He motioned with his head. Emily followed the motion, a crease in her brow.

He waited impatiently. Why was this taking so long? If she knew the girl, then she knew the girl! The pen started tapping.

"That's Allison Wakefield."

Charlie jumped. The pen rolled off his desk. Emily just stared, vaguely amused. "Right, her name, thanks."

All of a sudden, the hair on the back of Charlie's neck began to prickle. Somehow, Charlie had forgotten they were actually still in class. He watched Emily's brown eyes widen dramatically, and he knew he really didn't want to turn around right then. But, of course, he did anyway.

Stern dark eyes pinned him to his chair. Charlie gulped involuntarily. Though Mr. MacIntyre was his favorite teacher, he had always thought the man seemed far more suited to being a marine than a high school history teacher.

"Mr. Bannister, Miss Drake," Mr. MacIntyre drawled, "If you're finished?"

He felt the eyes of the entire class trained on him. His wings drooped. He noticed Allison Wakefield watching as well, but her face was unreadable. Mr. MacIntyre shifted to the side, blocking Charlie from the classroom's gaze. Though the look in the teacher's eyes was firm, it was not unkind, and his growling voice was softer than usual. "Just, uh, pay attention, Bannister."

"Yes, sir."

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**C**harlie made sure he paid attention the rest of the class period. But the minute the bell rang; he shoved his notebook into his backpack and raced past Emily to catch up with Allison Wakefield. She was fast, and Charlie briefly lost sight of her when she melted into the crowded halls.

Charlie stretched out his longs legs and walked as quickly as possible without actually running.

But Allison had a large head start, and Charlie was forced to stop again and again to avoid knocking someone over with his wings in the thronging high school hallways.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of her, stopping at what must have been her locker. Perfect! He caught up at last, ignoring a group of sophomore girls who shuddered dramatically as he passed.

"Hey, uh, Allison?"

She looked up from her backpack, brows raised. Her face was still inscrutable. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to apologize for, you know, the way I acted yesterday."

A smile flickered across her face, lightening her solemn gray eyes. "Thank you, Charlie."

At a loss for what to do, he nodded and turned to go; rather surprised she knew his name. All the way to the cafeteria he wondered how she knew him when he had never noticed her. But then he entered the noisy room, and everyone went silent, their eyes shooting to him like filings to a magnet. _Oh, right._

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**A**llison slid breathlessly into a seat at the beat-up lunch table. She had gone first to see her math teacher about a piece of homework, and had arrived just in time to see the cafeteria's reaction to Charlie Bannister. It angered her to think that the scene occurred every day, with both Charlie and to a lesser extent his family. No wonder Charlie was in a bad mood the other day.

She pulled a sandwich from her backpack and bit into it furiously. Her head jerked up at the sound of laughter. Ross Brody, her best friend of six years, leaned toward her across the table, grinning broadly. "What'd that poor sandwich do to you?"

Allison rolled her eyes. She took another bite of her sandwich, giving him a shrug that was simply too nonchalant. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his right eyebrow rise in question. Gritting her teeth as she chewed the sandwich, she considered her options. Lying to him would never work. To some, she was hard to interpret, but he could read her like a picture book. Having someone who knew you that well could be terribly inconvenient. Her only option was to decide how much of the truth she wanted him to know.

She really didn't want Ross to know how worked up she got over seeing Charlie's family ridiculed, especially when she didn't know why she did. Over the past few years, Ross had become like a protective older brother; whenever she was upset, he had to do something about it. And Allison didn't know what she wanted him to do in this situation.

Ross watched her expectantly, his greenish-blue eyes sharp. Allison sighed and set down her lunch. "It's nothing. Really," She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his probing stare, "People can just be so-" She broke off with another sigh. Unconsciously she looked over at the table on the far side of the cafeteria where the dragon family sat, and she missed the similar look on her friend's face.

"You know, Als, you're right. And we should do something about it."

"Yeah, we should…" Allison whipped her head around, "Wait, what?"

"C'mon," Ross gave another huge grin, grabbed her arm, and just about dragged her across the cafeteria. She had just enough time to scoop up her backpack before he pulled her away. In less than a minute the two were standing in front of Charlie's family.

Ross dipped his head. "Hey, guys. Mind if we sit here?"

A few of them exchanged looks, but a tall blonde girl sitting at the other end of the table smiled and spoke up immediately. "Sure, Ross, why not." Allison couldn't help but notice that Charlie didn't seem to agree. She felt her face curve in a frown as well. How did Ross know this girl?

"I'm Ross, and this is my friend Allison."

The two closest to Ross and Allison scooted over as much as they could and Ross flopped down easily in the space provided. Allison sat stiffly, not at all comfortable. The blonde girl who had spoken before stretched her hand across the table. Allison shook it, her eyes widening. The girl had a strong grip!

"I guess it's only fair we introduce ourselves. I'm Karen." After settling back into her seat, she raised her eyebrows at the person on the other side of Ross. A pretty girl with a curtain of dark brown hair looked up from her book reluctantly and absentmindedly introduced herself as Hannah Foley. Allison had to smother a laugh. With that distracted look, her wire-rimmed glasses askew and her hair mussed as if she'd just run her hands through it, Hannah looked like a preoccupied college professor.

Allison turned her head as the boy on her right spoke up immediately. "My name is Ryan Drake.

It's a pleasure to meet you both." He said, sitting as straight in his seat as he could. His clipped British speech was utterly polite. Despite his formality, Allison thought he could be no older than fourteen or fifteen, and not very tall.

The next girl looked young and very nervous, but still smiled warmly when she told them her name was Abby. With the same careless confidence that Karen had shown, a stocky boy with reddish brown hair introduced himself as Ben Bannister.

Allison already knew the last two from history class. Charlie held her eyes, daring her to scorn the people he cared about. He was fiercely and absolutely devoted to his family. Emily sat on his other side as always, her small smile in place.

Silence. Abby, Ben, and Ryan exchanged glances. Allison squirmed.

"Hey, Ross, how did you think you did on the math test?"

Ross instantly grasped what Karen was trying to do. "Oh, uh, yeah, I think I did alright."

Pause.

Ross's eyes darted around the table. It had to be done. "So, how do you feel about the weather?"

Everyone laughed while Ross turned red and grinned. The barrier had been broken. Everyone was soon occupied in conversation except Hannah, who had gone back to her book long ago. To Allison's surprise, quiet Emily asked her about the history assignment, and somehow they went from that to talking (and laughing) about pretty much everything. Looking around at the small group, Allison wondered why all the other kids tormented them. Other than Charlie's wings, none of them showed obvious signs of being dragons.

When the bell rang at the end of lunch, everyone at the table stood to leave, and Allison was surprised at how disappointed she was. She groaned. "I've got Mr. Blair next."

She looked to her best friend, but he must not have heard her. Ross left with Ben and Ryan after a hurried good-bye, leaving Allison feeling rather abandoned.

Emily came up and linked her arm through Allison's. "I'm going that direction, too."

Well, her mother was always telling her to make new friends. As they walked down the hall, still talking, Allison smiled. This could be better than she'd thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! Here's some more!**

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It had been two months. Allison and Ross sat with the dragon kids everyday, and Allison now sat with Emily and Charlie in history class. Charlie had finally stopped glaring at Allison and Ross every time he saw them, and had even gone to the park to play soccer with Ross last week. _He even smiles occasionally_, Allison thought with a grin, _a feat I used to think impossible for him. _

Allison frowned suddenly. Speaking of Charlie, where was he? The bell was about to ring, but she'd seen neither Charlie nor Emily all day. She looked up to see both of them charge through the door just as the bell rang. "Sorry, Mr. MacIntyre," Emily panted.

The teacher raised one dark eyebrow, but only said, "Just sit down."

Ignoring the stares of their classmates, the two wove their way through the classroom until they reached Allison and plopped down on either side of her. At the front of the room, Mr. MacIntyre cleared his throat roughly, and the entire class turned to him as one.

"Now that everyone is here, maybe we can get on with the lesson." He turned toward the board began writing, continuing his lecture from the day before.

"Where were you guys?" Allison whispered. Without taking her eyes from Mr. MacIntyre, Emily responded, "Someone wrote graffiti all over our lockers during break. They did yours too, you know."

"_What_?" Allison hissed. She hadn't needed to go to her locker at break. She marveled at Emily's calm, but when she took a closer look at her friend, Allison noticed that Emily's eyes were not watching Mr. MacIntyre's lecture at all. Emily was staring straight ahead with a pained expression filling her brown eyes. Allison turned to look at Charlie. He met her gaze evenly, his lips tight and his jaw clamped shut. Feeling drained, Allison shut her eyes and leaned back in her seat. She didn't regret her decision, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to the consequences.

This was but another of the long string of abuses that Allison and Ross had been subjected to since becoming friends with the dragons. At first, some had come up to her in supposed friendship, delicately saying that, to some students, not them of course, she was beginning to be associated with "that odd family", and surely she didn't want that, did she?

When Allison explained firmly that it was her intent to be associated with "that odd family", they had all given her disgusted, pitying looks and walked away. From that day forward Allison had become a target for Castlewood High's wrath. Anonymous shoves in the hallway, whispered threats from around a corner, taunting laughter whenever she passed by; Allison had never been more grateful for her best friend. Though he did become friends with the other kids in their group, Ross still stuck by her and managed to be around whenever she needed him. A pugnacious, muscular soccer player at her side tended to discourage the worst of the cruelty.

Allison was also grateful for her new friends. Karen's confidence was so contagious that some of it was bound to rub off occasionally, and Hannah would often deflect some of the pain by hilariously comparing their situation to some random moment in history. Emily had quickly become her closest friend besides Ross, and Allison delighted in having a friend that was a girl for the first time in years. The three younger ones always tried their hardest to cheer the others up, and she knew now that even Charlie would comfort her if he had to.

They formed a tight-knit group, and despite everything they had to endure at school, the place became a haven of sorts. There truly was safety in numbers. No one mentioned going over to each others' houses, every one of them afraid that they or their parents would say or do something to break the strong bonds they forged at school.

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"Hey Mom, hey Dad." Ben filed into the kitchen behind his older siblings. Clefspeare watched the kids from under the kitchen table, his furry brown tail thumping against the floor. His parents looked up as one. Their worried faces smoothed instantly.

Ben frowned. "What's wrong?"

Charlie and Karen, who had already started toward the stairs, stopped abruptly and looked back curiously. Billy and Bonnie Bannister exchanged a quick look. Billy looked his youngest son in the eyes as he spoke. "There's nothing wrong." He smiled softly, "Everything's okay."

Their father having dispelled their momentary worry, Charlie and Karen continued up the stairs. Ben didn't move. He didn't think his dad was lying, but Ben still felt that something was not quite right.

He may not have had Billy's danger sense, but he recognized the feeling of impending doom. As his parents began to move around the kitchen, Ben stirred. When he saw his mother step toward the sink full of dishes, he hustled across the room and beat her to it. "I can do them."

Bonnie looked surprised. "Thank you, Ben."

Guilt churned through him at that look. He couldn't remember the last time he had helped his mother or father with anything. Sure, he did his weekly chores, but not without major griping. A knot suddenly rose in his throat. His arms elbow-deep in soapy water, he watched his parents.

Billy crossed the kitchen, carrying a pot to the stove. Even when wearing a flowery apron and stirring a pot of soup, his father retained a grace and economy of movement familiar to all swordsmen. Mentally, Ben compared his appearance with his father's, but he already knew he favored his grandfather far more than his father. It was Charlie who had inherited Billy's looks. For a moment, a sharp pang of envy went through him, envy for this connection between Charlie and Billy.

On the other hand, all three of the Bannister children had inherited Bonnie's bright blue eyes, much to Billy's delight. Ben's mother was at the side counter, chopping carrots for the soup. All the while, she kept up a conversation with Billy, and every so often both of them would share a smile, a laugh, or a glance. For the first time, it hit Ben that his parents were not just his parents.

A cold wet nose pushing into his hand made him flinch. Ben looked down, and saw that the dishes had vanished from the sink. Clefspeare was sitting at Ben's feet, his head cocked to one side.

Absently, Ben scratched behind the dog's ears. He heard his dad call the other two down and he settled heavily in his usual place at the table. He was quiet during dinner that night.

Charlie was quiet as well, leaning forward slightly to make room for his wings, but Ben noticed his eyes took in every detail of what was going on around him like a feral cat. Despite his silence, his eyes shone with unspoken words.

Karen, on the other hand, never halted her animated speech. She never stopped moving once. He knew she was athletic; that strength and stamina were the gifts passed to her by her dragon blood, but she was not just energetic, she was unable to sit still. It was funny how he could live in the same house with his family and yet not know these things. He'd never seen his family like this before. It was like meeting them for the first time.

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**Review please? :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Enjoy and Happy Holidays!**

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Ben sat against the side of the darkened house, the dog curled up beside him. His family was no doubt already sleeping, but Ben wasn't tired. He loved winter. The crisp, cool air; clear, sharp sky; even the icy dew on the ground all helped to soothe his mind.

When his hands went numb, he buried them in Clefspeare's shaggy fur; when his nose went numb, he let out a puff of air, and the area around him warmed instantly from his super-heated breath. His eyes drifted shut. This was peace.

Light suddenly flooded the yard. Clefspeare jumped up on all four feet, letting out a surprised _woof_. Ben jerked awake and stumbled into a crouch. _What was going on?_

Still on his knees, Ben spun to face the house. Two feet above his head was a square of painful yellow. The kitchen window. Slowly he pulled himself up to the window so he could just barely see over the sill.

Inside, his parents sat at the table, both dressed in pajamas, their robes wrapped around them. They were facing away from him. An old man was pacing quickly back and forth directly across the room from Ben, and it was he whom Billy and Bonnie were watching. The man was wearing a long, plain robe and worn sandals, looking as if he had just jumped out of a Bible story.

Ben couldn't see the expressions of his parents' faces, but he figured they must know the weird man, or they would have called the police by now. Something about the man seemed familiar, but Ben couldn't place the feeling.

Billy leaned forward and Ben pressed his face to the glass. He heard his father's low voice, clear but quiet.

"We got your message, but," he shared a glance with his wife, "we don't understand. What exactly happened?"

The old man stopped pacing and turned to face Billy. Ben ducked a little lower. "You know that for years Sapphira and Elam were conducting expeditions of Second Eden." The couple nodded, and Ben recalled all the things his parents had told him about the other dimension. He knew that Sapphira and Elam were good friends of his parents that had remained in Second Eden.

Bonnie leaned forward to speak as well. Her voice was much quieter than the men's, and Ben strained to make out her words. "Well, yes, but we lost contact with them more than five years ago."

The old man dipped his head and continued, "I know, and I will address that issue in a moment. Well, their explorations to the south and east were successful. The explorers reached the sea with no sign of human habitation, and no danger beyond a quick skirmish with a few muskrats. Unfortunately, the journey to the north did not go well." Every line in the old man's wrinkled face shifted into a troubled frown. "Less than a week out, the group was brutally ambushed by a strange band of warriors. None of our friends were killed, but Elam was crippled."

Ben saw rather than heard his parents' reaction to this news about their friend. Billy stiffened, and his hand, which rested on the table, gripped Bonnie's tightly. Bonnie, who had crumpled in her seat, straightened a little at the touch.

The old man placed a hand on Bonnie's shoulder with a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid the news gets worse, my dear. The expedition had only been back three weeks before an entire army of the strange warriors converged on Founder's Village and drove our friends out. They were forced to retreat to Peace Village, with the warriors following close behind.

"After conquering both villages, the warriors seemed content to leave our friends alone, but many innocent residents of the villages were killed or injured during the retreat."

"But what about the dragons? Makaidos, Thigocia, and Legossi should have put those warriors in their place!" Bonnie's voice now traveled loud and clear.

Even as far away as he was, Ben could see the sadness in the old man's eyes. "During the retreat, the warriors managed to capture a few of the villagers. They hold them under guard constantly, and they sent a message proclaiming that at the first sign of attack, or first glimpse of a dragon, the captives would be killed.

"For a year, stalemate reigned. Then only a few months ago, Elam and the others decided that they had to try to rescue the captives. They mounted an attack on Founder's Village, only to find that few warriors remained and the captives nowhere to be found. Valiant led a group that chased the warriors out, but the village is utterly destroyed. All of Ashley and Walter's technology, the floating hospital, all of it ruined."

Even to Ben, the silence following the old man's words was oppressive. He shrunk down a little, secretly glad he couldn't see his mother's face, because he wouldn't be able to handle it if she was crying.

"What do Elam and Sapphira want us to do?" Bonnie's voice was thick.

"They want you to come to Second Eden." The old man's voice made it sound obvious.

"But that's impossible. We have no way to get there." Billy said flatly.

"Apollo can be fixed."

"But Ashley said…"

"Ashley did not lie; Apollo is damaged, just not permanently. It would take weeks to fix it, and you know Ashley has barely a few hours to spare, let alone weeks."

Bonnie laughed ruefully in agreement. "Then how are we supposed to help Elam and Sapphira?"

Ben heard a sigh. "I have no answer, my dear. I am only a messenger. The only advice I can give you is to pray our Lord makes a way for you."

Ben heard chairs gently scrape the tile floor, and knew his parents had stood up. The kitchen light flicked off, and a few moments later he heard the front door open and close.

Once again Ben settled against the outside wall, much more exhausted than before. What had just happened? Part of him wanted to run inside and demand an explanation, but the other part, the larger part, feared what his parents would say. A line from a favorite book of his came to mind, and a chill crawled down his back. Staring blankly through the kitchen window, he whispered, "We wait for the stroke of doom."


	5. Chapter 5

Hello everybody! Welcome to the new year! Thank you to those who reviewed/favorited/alerted, you honestly make my day :)

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The doorbell echoed through the house. Hannah paused for a moment, her eyes sliding to the door. After a moment, she shrugged slightly and continued writing. Before she'd written a full sentence, the doorbell sounded again, insistent and grating.

Hannah sighed and shoved herself away from her desk. If she wanted the noise to stop, she would have to answer the door, because her parents were at work and Abby was out with Emily and Allison.

Her annoyance evaporated when she opened the door to find Ben and his dog shivering on the doorstep. The brown mutt looked up at her sadly the way dogs do. "Ben! What are you doing out here?"

He didn't answer. Gently, he pushed past her into the hall, the dog following. Hannah watched him carefully. He'd been acting very strange lately. A cold October rain had been falling all day, but Ben wore only jeans and a soaked T-shirt. His dark red hair was plastered to his forehead.

She shut the door against the chilling wind and turned to face Ben, only to receive a thorough soaking as the dog shook himself off. So much for her cozy sweatshirt. Stifling a groan, Hannah wiped off her glasses with her fingers, leaving little streaks across the lenses. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ben beat her to it.

"I need your help." The words shot out of his mouth as if he were throwing down a challenge. His blue eyes glittered and his cheeks were pale as he spoke. Hannah wondered if he was catching a cold. Her right eyebrow curved up unconsciously. "You need my help," she stretched the last word, and then continued with a smile, "Did you know you could have used a mode of communication that didn't result in your catching pneumonia?"

His face showed an unusual lack of humor, and she felt the smile slide off her face. "What?" That thing she hated, the worm of fear, slithered its way to the surface and she felt it settle happily in her stomach. What had happened? Did Abby get hit by a car? Was it her parents? Was her mom sick? Ashley had been working extra hours lately, covering for a sick coworker, ands maybe....No! Hannah shoved the panic away, shoved it in a box and closed the lid. Collected. Calm. Hannah would accept nothing less. Problems, she could solve. She was good at it, in fact. It was the fear she didn't know how to handle. She waited silently for Ben to continue.

For a moment, Ben stared at the ground. Hannah's foot began tapping. Finally, he looked up, his eyes calmer now, but still brighter than normal. "I need you to fix Apollo."

Hannah's first instinct was to laugh, and laugh she did. "Apollo's broken."

Ben showed no distress at her amusement. His chin raised a little, and he challenged her quietly. "You could fix it."

Hannah spluttered. "I cou—I could fix it? I—" She swallowed audibly. She probably could fix it, easily. With her mother's blueprints—yes, it was quite possible. She really had no excuse. Reluctant to agree, Hannah's mind clamped down on the one hole in Ben's story. "Why?"

Ben crumpled a little. For the first time, he looked nervous. "I—I just need you to."

Hannah fixed him with her best motherly glare. "Ben…" she warned.

"Hannah…" He screwed his eyes shut. "Fine. I have to go to Second Eden."

"What?!"

Her voice was low and fierce, demanding an explanation. Ben winced and swallowed before he continued. "You remember the stories our parents used to tell us about Second Eden? Sapphira and Goliath and companions and stuff?"

He waited for her hesitant nod.

"Right! Well, a week ago the prophet Enoch was standing in my kitchen!"

"You met a millennia-old biblical prophet?"

"Ye—Well, no. Not quite."

"Eavesdropping?" She smirked.

"Yeah, well, good thing I did!" He replied hotly. "He came to our house a week ago to see my parents. And I just happened to be right outside so…I, well, listened. He said that Second Eden needed help, that there's some weird new warriors trying to take over." He shook his head. "Mom and Dad wanted to help, I know they did, but I've been watching them and I've seen their frustration and worry." He smacked his fist into his palm. "They want to help, but it's different this time. They're older, and they're parents now. I don't think they think it's possible for them to help anymore. But I can!"

"No offense, Ben, but logically speaking, what could you do to help?"

"I know how to use a sword. Mom and Dad were younger than me when they started fighting bad guys!"

She snorted. "Barely. Ben, you're fourteen!"

His face grew sober, and he paused a moment before replying, "Hannah, I know I'm young, and I know I sound like some stupid kid, but I need to do this. I feel that I'm meant to do this."

Hannah considered him a moment more. He really did seem to believe what he said. Maybe she'd regret it, but she was going to help him. She shot Ben a thin smile. "Alright, I'll do it."

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

"Come on."

Charlie jerked around. Ross waited impatiently with his hands stuffed in his windbreaker's pockets, shifting from one foot to the other. Behind him, the park was full of people clustered together by booths featuring games and contests. Even more grouped around the snack booth, proudly advertising steaming cider and warm pastries. It seemed like the whole town had braved the November cold to come out to the Fall Festival.

"Are you okay, man?" With his head, Ross gestured behind him. "Everyone else already went in."

Charlie shook his head to dismiss the crazy thoughts running through his brain at the sight of his brother sneaking off into the darkness beyond the great floodlights. The kid probably just had to be alone for a little while. Charlie understood that. He turned back to Ross. "What? Yeah, I'm good."

He rubbed his cold hands together. "I think I need to get my hands around a cup of hot cider before they fall off."

Ross laughed, his breath crystallizing before his face. "No argument here."

Half an hour later, Charlie was on his fourth cup of cider and his younger brother hadn't reappeared.

He stopped Ross, who was passing by the snack booth, having gone to play some carnival games after his first cup of cider.

"Have you seen Ben?"

Ross shook his head. "Not since we first got here. Do you know where Hannah is? Mark Shores is running one of the games, and I want to see his face when she figures out his trick."

"Nope." The two boys looked at each other uneasily. "Maybe we should find my dad."

Ross nodded quietly. Charlie tossed his half-full cup into a nearby trashcan. All the cider he'd drunk swirled unpleasantly in his stomach. "C'mon."

They walked up the wide central aisle of the carnival, eyes peeled for Charlie's father. Though neither would admit it, their strides gradually became faster and faster as they dodged group after group without sighting either Billy or any of the adults.

Charlie almost laughed aloud when they passed between two booths and found the girls huddled together, talking. Except...

"Where's Hannah?"

The girls looked around, surprised. Karen spoke up. "I don't know. I kind of thought she'd be with one of you. She left ten minutes ago, said she didn't feel well."

"Hmm," Ross mused, "I saw her about twenty minutes ago, and she looked fine. I wonder what happened."

Abby tensed, and her voice shook when she spoke. "S-she might have g-gone home." She scanned her friends' faces, "R-right?"

Charlie's gut twisted. First Ben, now Hannah. Something wasn't right. "We need to find her. Now."

Hardly had the words left his mouth than he turned and started toward the parking lot. The others followed him solemnly, as if they were part of a funeral procession. Halfway to the lot, Ryan, who was playing a ring toss game, noticed the group. Trotting to keep up with them, his smile faded as he caught sight of their grim faces.

"What's wrong?" He demanded.

Karen flashed a look at her twin. With his jaw clenched tightly, he didn't look likely to answer Ryan's question. She took a deep breath. "We can't find Hannah."

"Or Ben." Charlie's voice was strained.

Karen swung around to stare at her brother. "Wait, what? Ben's missing too? And you didn't tell me this until now?" Charlie stayed silent, and Karen turned away with a huff. "Well, come on then!"

The entire group, now energized by fear and worry, charged after her. Upon reaching the parking lot, those able to drive suddenly realized that they had come to the festival with their parents, and thus had no transportation.

For a moment the group debated, wondering whether they should go back to the festival and find the parents. Charlie chafed at the delay. He had to do something now. Without another word he turned and sprinted a few yards off. With a powerful thrust of his wings, Charlie shot upwards.

* * *

Ben's quiet breathing echoed in the dark kitchen. He stood by the table where he had eaten breakfast nearly every day of his life, a scrap of paper clenched in his damp fist. He was almost glad he wouldn't be there to see the looks on his parents' faces when they saw the note; the mere thought of it sent guilt churning through his stomach to mix with the roiling fire.

Instinctively glancing at the blurry shape of the clock on the wall, Ben sucked in a deep breath and gritted his teeth. If he didn't move now, he never would.

He released the slightly crumpled note, watching it fall to the table before shouldering his pack and turning to the door. Blood pounded through his veins. He was really doing this. He'd packed everything the night before, but it hadn't felt real then. He hadn't really known what to bring to another dimension, so he just stuffed the backpack with anything that could be useful. Everything except...a weapon.

The locked sword case in the living room drew his eye like a lodestone. In six quick steps he was there, reaching for the bookshelf beside the case, pulling the key from between the stiff pages of a medieval history book, releasing the lock with a sharp twist of the key, and pushing open the heavy oak lid.

Three swords rested in a nest of velvet. Only the one in the center had a scabbard. Ben stretched out his hand to grab the sword on the right, the one he usually used in practice, but he stopped just short of touching it. The blade was dull and dinged in several places, and the leather grip was coming loose. It was just a practice sword, not meant for actual battle. It wasn't the kind of sword a hero would carry. But Excalibur was.

Reverently, Ben lifted the ancient sword, sliding it slowly from its scabbard. Though centuries old, the blade was as sharp as ever, and the hilt was untarnished. With this blade, he could be a hero, just like his dad. Putting the sword back in the scabbard, he buckled the whole thing over his shoulder. He straightened, and felt the blade rest against his back. With a smile, he picked up his bag and left the house, shutting the door quietly behind him. The street was deserted, but he knew his family would get back from the festival soon.

He had to hurry. If anyone, especially a cop, saw him running around town with a sword on his back, he would be in so much trouble.

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! Please keep reviewing so I know if anyone's actually enjoying this story!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Very sorry it's been so long, but unfortunately I do have a life that sometimes pulls me away from writing! Please review! Tell me if you like it or you hate it, it doesn't matter if your review is one word, just talk to me, people! **

**Enjoy!**

**-Outlaw**

* * *

Ross Brody was a natural athlete. He was Castlewood High's starting left midfielder and one of the highest scorers on the soccer team. On a dirt track, he could run all day, and even on the unforgiving concrete Ross had outstripped everyone but Karen, whose legs churned even faster than his to keep up with his longer strides.

But Ross had never run under conditions like these. It was surreal. Orange light—the only light—beamed down from streetlamps, broken only by the bat-like shadow darkening the sidewalk ahead. Ross glanced up, but he could make out no more than the outline of Charlie, a darker patch against a dark sky. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Karen's pale face. Ross gulped. He had no idea what was going on, but the fear and worry had spread from the others to him, and now he couldn't get his mind off of it.

Up ahead, Charlie pulled his wings in close to his body and shot toward the ground. He landed hard, stumbling to his knees in the front yard of a darkened house. Ross and Karen followed moments later, and the three charged across the grass to the front door. As Charlie fumbled for his keys, Ross looked back. The rest of the group was just rounding the corner at the very end of the block, looking like nothing more than toy figurines from this distance.

Behind Ross, Charlie finally found the right key. Jamming the key into the lock, he shoved the door open, only to fall backwards with a surprised yell as a brown blur shot through the open door and knocked him over. Before Ross or Karen could move to pull what Ross now recognized as a large scruffy dog off of Charlie, the animal had bounded away.

Charlie ignored Ross's and Karen's helping hands and scrambled to his feet. Ross stepped back, shocked at the frantic look on Charlie's face. For as long as Ross had known him, which admittedly wasn't long, Charlie had always been a controlled, "whatever" kind of guy. In a way, it was good to see him care so much, but it was also kind of scary.

"Follow that dog!" Charlie barked, before once again thrusting himself into the air. _What was so important about the dog?_ Ross wondered. Hesitating, he glanced back to see the others still a ways off, their confusion evident even from fifty yards away. He turned back around to demand that Karen tell him what exactly was going on, because there was obviously more to this than just Ben having sneaked off for a bit, but she was already running after the big brown dog.

Stifling a groan, Ross followed.

* * *

The muscles in his back twinged with every flap of his wings, but Charlie ignored the pain, pushing himself even harder. His own racking guilt was far worse than any physical pain. He was Ben's big brother. He was supposed to watch out for him, to protect him.

For weeks he had known that something was wrong with Ben. The kid had been sneaking off. There would be hours when no one seemed to know where exactly Ben was, a very strange thing for the usually social boy. Even when he was around, he seemed to be partly in another world. But just last week that had changed, and Ben started treating everyone oddly, almost…delicately, as if the world was ending and he was the only one who knew it. Several times Charlie had caught him watching his family with an inexpressibly sad look that was far too old for his young face.

He had noticed all of this, but he hadn't done a thing about it. He had been too busy wallowing in self-pity and making sure no one got past the walls he had built around himself to bother finding out what was wrong with Ben. But all of that had to change, and change fast. Because Charlie knew, deep in his gut, that this time was not the same as the other times Ben had sneaked away.

He couldn't have said how he knew, but he was certain that something was going to happen tonight. Something big, something to do with his baby brother. And Charlie had to get to Ben before it happened.

Charlie looked up, and saw that Clefspeare had finally come to a stop. The brown mutt jumped and scratched at the Foleys' front door, howling and making more noise than Charlie had ever heard him make. He dipped his wings sharply.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he was running for the door. He hoped it was unlocked; having to break in really wouldn't help his mood. The handle turned easily at his touch, and Charlie and Clefspeare sprinted through together. He heard the others coming up fast behind him, but didn't spare a glance over his shoulder, leaving the door open wide.

He charged up the stairs right behind the dog, his heart pounding. _Please don't let me be too late! _

At the top of the stairs Charlie took a half-second to let his eyes sweep the dark hallway. To his left, light pooled around the bottom of the first door. Ashley's workshop. Without another thought, Charlie banged through the door, the dog at his heels.

"Ben! No!"


	8. Chapter 8

VERY IMPORTANT: I've severely lost interest in this story, especially since I heard that Bryan Davis is in the process of writing the next books in the series. If just one person asks me to continue, I will, but otherwise I'm done. I'll leave it up on the site. If anyone wants to talk to me about continuing the story themselves, that would be great.

I'm sorry if I disappointed anyone, but I've thought about this for a while, and believe I'm making the right choice. Right now I don't have the time or energy to devote myself to writing a multi-chaptered story. I guess I'm more of a one-shot kind of writer.

Again, I'm sorry, but you can take it up with me if you want.


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